


JWP 2019 #25: More Words, Phrases, and All The Things

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, John Whump, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: John is not having a good day. Written for JWP 2019 #25.





	JWP 2019 #25: More Words, Phrases, and All The Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Apparently I've been letting Watson off too lightly this month. Watson whump ahoy. Random use of words. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Prompt: More Words, Phrases, and All the Things: Use at least three of the following words and phrases in your work today.   
> 1\. Blood  
> 2\. Thunder  
> 3\. The British workman  
> 4\. Rain  
> 5\. Bullet  
> 6\. "What is it? A fire?"  
> 7\. Vox populi, vox dei  
> 8\. Dread  
> 9\. Grotesque  
> 10\. Horror  
> 11\. Malapert

John felt blood and rain mixing together, sliding down his arm in a grotesque mixture. The bullet had lodged in the bone. There was no exit wound. Good, in that he was only losing blood form one place instead of two; bad in terms of likely overall damage. For the moment, adrenaline masked the thunder of his pulse and the growing weakness of blood loss and shock. He was under no illusions that would last for long.

He made his way through the abandoned union hall as quietly as he could, trying to avoid whoever had shot him and find a way out of the place. Old posters still clung in places on the walls in defiance of the ruined, leaky roof. “The British Workman is the Glory of the Country” was obvious enough, but “Demand Better Working Conditions With One Voice – Vox Populi, Vox Dei” seemed oddly highbrow contrasted with the 60’s era pop art. John shivered, and tried to convince himself it was the overall miasma of horror and dread inspired by the creepy surroundings, and not the continuing onset of shock or hypothermia.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

John froze. The voice seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere. Speakers, perhaps, or something like it.

“I see you…”

 _Bollocks_ , John wanted to say. _I know a bluff when I hear one. You just want me to give myself away_. He shoved the impulse and the malapert thought aside alike, recognizing both as yet more signs that he was in deep trouble. Because seriously, under normal circumstances, a word like malapert would never occur to him.

Black smoke rolled out of a doorway about six meters ahead of him. Instinctively John started backing away from it, only to stop dead as he collided with someone. He spun around as fast as his condition allowed.

“I’ve created a distraction,” Sherlock said, eyes swiftly assessing John and lingering on his arm. “Let’s take advantage of it.”

“What is it? A fire?” John asked, only half-joking.

“Smoke bomb, courtesy of some basic improvised chemistry.” His eyes narrowed, and John looked back to see the smoke grow noticeably thicker. “Possibly a bit of an uncontrolled experiment. Come on, John!”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 25, 2019.


End file.
